


Apple Blossoms

by swordsafety



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Finnpoe - Freeform, Finns a dryad poes a soldier, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, Really Really Gay, Stormpilot, friend was reading song of achilles to me and i got a little heavy handed with it lmfao, greece au, might do more with this still tryna figure some stuff out, trans Finn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 04:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15700077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordsafety/pseuds/swordsafety
Summary: He couldn’t imagine an afterlife without him. It would be a punishment. A bleak existence without Finn’s laugh, Finn’s touch. The way his cheeks dimpled up when he smiled. Even Helen would be jealous.If her face alone launched thousands of ships, Finn’s could launch a million and then some.





	Apple Blossoms

**Author's Note:**

> hhhhhh this was really impulsive but it was cute n sad, so i stuck with it

There’s a laugh.

It’s more of a giggle, really. Poe sets his things down, and looks over his shoulder. A familiar chill runs up his spine, he’s not afraid of it. He welcomes it. It’s like a fever. He shivers, though his body temperature all but rises. He knows it anywhere, and he’s grown more than accustomed to it. The unseen attacker is quick on their feet. He has no more warning than the sound of a branch breaking before he’s hit.

His breath leaves him with an ‘oof’, as he topples over. A weight slamming into his back and sending him forward. Poe smiles-- even as he’s being thrown to the grass. He knows the hands that are pressed into his skin, he’s memorized them. The indentations made by those fingertips only he would recognize.

They roll and roll and roll, until they lay at the bottom of the hill. They’re breathless and covered in dirt. Poe’s grinning so hard it hurts, corners of his mouth sore from use. They’ve both managed to collect the entire forest floor in their hair, leaves and other little trinkets sticking up from their heads. The darkness of Poe’s eyelids does not last long, soon he gazes upon the shadow above him.

Finn lay triumphantly over top of him, a grin on his face. He would miss this. “Good morning.”

Poe smiles. “Good morning.”

He would miss _him._

“Did I scare you?” Finn asks. He looks expectant on a yes.

He didn’t. “Only half to death,” Poe says. “But, if I die let it be in comfort knowing yours is the last face I see.”

“So dramatic. _If you die_ ,” Finn raises a brow. “You say that as if anybody can kill Poe Dameron. Greatest soldier in all of Greece.”

“Oh, you flatter me,” Poe shakes his head.

Greatest _commander_ in all of Greece. He’d led countless armies into battle, all without fail. He was revered by his peers and his country. Though, what could one expect when he’d practically been born into it. Both his parents were held in high esteems, Poe naturally tried to fill the very large footsteps. Under the watchful gaze of Leia Organa, his leading general.

Finn reaches to grab a handful of Poe’s robe. “Men tremble with _fear_ at your very name,” he feigns an announcers voice. He hits every syllable as if his tongue were a weapon.

“ _Poe Dameron,_ ” Poe whispers.

Finn feigns a shudder. “I _quiver_.”

He leans down and pulls Poe up to meet him halfway as they lay on ground, bestowing a kiss unto him. Poe’s mouth softens under Finn’s. Blood rushes to gather in Poe’s cheeks, flushing him darker than he once was only a mere second ago. He leans up for more when Finn pulls back, kiss landing smack dab on the edge of his mouth.

Poe laughs and takes Finn’s chin between his fingers. “Some might say a rival to Achilles himself?”

Finn hums in thought. “I don’t know. He is quite handsome.”

“Oh, is he?” Poe’s thumb runs along the bottom of Finn's lip.

Finn nods. Suddenly, Poe reaches for him. Relentless fingers dancing along Finn’s sides, running along his ribcage. “What does he have that I don’t?”

He rolls to try and evade Poe, though he isn’t successful. Poe follows. Finn laughs and laughs, fighting madly back against the assault. Though, his efforts are wasted as he’s left flinging his limbs uselessly. One of his hands gets nabbed, Poe’s fingers wrapped around his wrist and keeping it above his head. “Is it because he is a demigod? Is that more your speed?”

Finn laughs and laughs, and laughs. “ _Mercy!_ ”

“Is the son of the late and great Shara Bey of no worth to you?”

It’s only when Finn shrieks with laughter and kicks out with a foot does Poe stop. Finn’s able to catch his breath. His heel connecting with Poe’s stomach, to which Poe once again has the air knocked out of him. Finn sees his window of opportunity. He bestrides Poe’s waist, legs on either side of his body. Finn leans down, resting his head and folded arms on his chest.

“What did you do today?” Finn’s fingers trace a tiny circle on a sliver of Poe’s exposed skin. It’s damp to the touch.

Poe hums. “Trained the draftees... Leia says ‘hello’.”

Finn runs his index finger along the side of Poe’s neck. “Is she well?”

“She is doing just fine. As quick-witted as ever… like a whip,” Poe says. “Though, every moment away from you was torture.”

“ _Torture_ , hm? Poor thing,” Finn props his chin up against Poe’s chest. “Well, we do not have to worry about that now.”

“What about you?”

Finn squints as if he doesn’t understand what Poe had said.

“Are _you_ well?” Poe asks, propping himself up on his elbows. Finn sits upright. “Your tree?”

“Oh,” Finn nods. “I am fine. It has been far too long for me to still be a thing of pity.”

Poe reaches to touch Finn’s shoulder. “It is not pity. I would never pity the likes of you,” he kneads a thumb back and forth over Finn’s skin. “I worry about you.”

“You do not have to. I am more than capable enough of taking care of myself, Poe,” he places a hand over top of his. “You would do well to remember.”

Poe knows that. Still, he frets. He knows Finn’s strong. After all, he had just thrown the both of them off a hill. But, still… he has nightmares of wandering the forest, no apple tree and no Finn in sight. Just the mocking call of crows from dead branches overhead. Rotting apple cores scattered about at his feet as food for the scavengers.

He'd vanish. Be no more than a memory. No body to bury, no ceremony to hold. New trees would grow in his place and keep the woods alive. And the world would keep spinning regardless, life would go on. But, still… Finn was only one hundred and twenty three. That's hardly a lifetime for his people. Not an age for a mystical being to die at, for certain. He had a good thousand or so years left on Earth.

“Oh! Have I told you about…” Finn starts.

Finn's here though. He's here. He's alive and well. And with good practice, Finn would outlive him. He would outlive him and continue to roam the wood until some harm too great befall his tree. He would continue to bring new life and keep watch over its inhabitants with his siblings. And Poe…

He's staring now. Eyes glued to Finn with a dreadfully plain face.

“Poe?”

His hand had traveled up to Finn’s face absently.

“Were you listening?” Finn asks.

“Um,” he recoils his hand and sets it on Finn’s thigh. “Sorry… I had something else on my mind. It's the… heat.”

He couldn’t imagine an afterlife without him. It would be a punishment. A bleak existence without Finn’s laugh, Finn’s touch. The way his cheeks dimpled up when he smiled. Even Helen would be jealous. If her face alone launched thousands of ships, Finn’s could launch a million and then some. Poe would go to war for him anyday.

“Oh… oh, okay. Well, the deer,” Finn says. “They haven't come back yet. It has been a month… I wonder if they got spooked by something...”

“Are you sure they did not run from your ever so hospitable brothers and sisters?”

“No,” Finn laughs. “ _Quiet,_ they will hear you.”

“I am sure the deer will come back,” Poe smiles. “You will soon see their red hides again.”

“I hope.”

He sighs and pats Finn on the leg. He should be going. The sun wasn’t going to stop lowering itself just so they could continue to bask in their affection. He was certain Finn had things to do, as well. Poe just had to collect his belongings… which had been promptly left at the top of the hill.

“Well… I’ll let you tend to your garden,” Poe says. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me in retrieving my belongings?” He points to where his basket sits.

“Oh,” Finn gets off of him. “Of course.”

They trek back up to the top, hand in hand. It doesn’t take long for them to yet again be distracted by each other. Poe would tell a joke, and Finn would laugh and laugh. Finn tells him about something he found and Poe would listen, eyes wide and attentive, as if Finn had been giving a speech. Poe lays across the forest floor, head resting in the pit of Finn's lap. He's looking up at him. His voice, a cadence. He wants to shut his eyes and drift off in Finn's words. 

Finn laughs. “You are a fool, Poe Dameron,” he continues to lace his fingers through Poe’s hair.

“Is it foolish to be in love?”

“Only when you do it,” Finn shakes his head. “Funny little man.”

He picks a twig out of Poe’s hair and flicks it to the ground. Finn would keep him here forever if he could. No more war, no more long trips away from home. No more worrying about whether or not Poe would come back, if he would be in one piece. He would be here and safe with him in the forest, and keep his siblings at bay. He would take care of him, even when Poe grew old.

“You wish to live with me in the wood?”

“It is my only wish,” Poe says.

Finn was stuck here, after all. This was his home. Tied to the forest as if his own two feet had grown roots. His tree, tall and abundant with apples, stands proudly behind him. He’d tried to leave. Once. A long jagged mark across the bark of the trunk was more than enough of a warning. It’d hurt. A lot. His back is still somewhat tender to the touch.

“Here? Until your last breath...? Drinking off my affections until you are sick of me?” Finn twirls a finger around a curl. It just never managed to stay down, no matter what Poe did to it. Sticking out from the side of his head like a weed between stones.

Poe looks as if Finn had spoken another language. Surely, he was mistaken. “I could never grow sick of you,” he says.

“And if you were to find a husband?” Finn's half joking. A wavering pit of unease heavy in his stomach, nonetheless. “A human?”

Poe knits his brows into his forehead. “I cannot bear the thought.”

The sun shines down on Finn’s face, casting the soft lines in a golden haze on dark skin. There’s something resembling a halo hovering around the top of his coiled head. His hair, white like apple blossoms. He's breathtaking. Never in all of Ithica has there been such a beauty.

Poe inhales. He doesn’t know how they managed to get this close. How Finn let him get this close. He’s but a lowly soldier, hands weathered with toil and a dirty chiton to match. His hands, rough and calloused. Finn likes his callouses though; he doesn’t mind them. Poe’s strong; so is he. They fit nicely between his own gentle, unworn hands.

“My siblings will kill you,” Finn looks away from Poe, gaze set on the trees ahead. Two dragonflies chase each other madly between branches. “They already tried once.”

“Yes,” it sounds like a question.

 _What about it?_ He wants to say. _They are the least of my worries._

Slips, Nines, and Zeroes. His fellow Dryads. Much more malevolent in their nature, of course. They loved to tease and torment and trick. Why it was no more than a decade ago when Finn had found this knobby-kneed little thing in the woods. A young boy, no bigger than a minute, with ears he hadn’t quite grown into yet. Finn, himself, had joined him in adolescence. Take away a hundred years and he even mirrored him in age. Fat round little face and snaggleteeth.

“You are but a mortal man,” Finn says. “You bleed.”

“For you.”

Finn laughs again. Full lips upturned at the corners, “You are hopeless.”

Poe was hurt. Lost. His siblings had very much taken advantage of that. They’d led him in circles. Sent him into thorn bushes. Pinched him, pushed him. How they loved to toy with visitors. Especially, the wide-eyed curious ones. That much hasn’t changed, at least. The boy Finn had found all scratched up and dirty was still in there somewhere. They’d called Poe a plaything, at best. Food, on a bad day.

“And what of me? When I am old and senile? Feeble?” Poe cocks his head to a side, squinting up at Finn. “Will you still love me? Who is to say you won't find another?”

Finn chuckles. A low rumbling in his throat, “You are being humble.”

“Well, obviously,” Poe says. “I’ll be irresistible into my 70’s.”

It is true. Finn will never age. Not a wrinkle will ever grace his face. No crepe lines edging his eyelids, no aching joints. He would stay as young as he is now. A vision of radiance and health.

“I am dangerous, you know,” Finn smiles, tracing his fingers around Poe’s jawline. “Men shouldn't talk to beings like me.”

Lies. Finn wouldn't (couldn't) hurt a fly, not even if it sought to harm him. His humanity is what set him apart from the others. Where they found pleasure in trickery, Finn found dismay. He was good at what he did, caring for the forest. Bringing new life. He just wishes that his siblings would see things his way sometimes. Though, that being said, he was impossibly strong. Powerful enough to make rivers, uproot trees, and make nature bend to his whim at single flick of his wrists. 

Poe reaches for his hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss. His lips dance across the ridge of Finn's knuckles. “And why is that?”

“We're known to be... ” Finn says. “ _Bewitching._ ”

“Do tell,” Poe kisses his index finger.

“ _Mischievous,_ ” he lounges back against the tree further. "Some might say _man-eating_.”

“I hope so,” Poe says.

To this, Finn jerks his hand back. A more than flustered curl of his lips on his face. He simply cannot believe his ears. His Poe, as bold as the day is young. He bats at his shoulder, and Poe laughs. If Finn could disappear (he could), he would.

Poe sits up from Finn's lap, hands flat against the grass beneath them. He cradles a side of Finn's face, pulling him closer. He kisses him and leaves a peck over a fading brand of affection on his neck. It's a dark purple against his brown skin. “You’ll be the ruin of me.”

“And you of me, Poe Dameron,” Finn says, words brushing against his ear.

“... I am to leave soon.” Poe grows quiet. “For Troy.”

Finn’s smile falters. He bats his eyes down to the side. Of course… _Troy. Hector._ Poe has to leave. He always has to leave. Every time Finn has him in his embrace, Poe manages to wriggle free and run to the frontlines, spear in hand. He knows this and still…

“Do you have to?” Finn knows it’s a silly question.

“Yes, I _have_ to,” Poe attempts a smile. “It is my duty.”

There’s a tightness in Finn’s chest. It swells until he cannot breathe, crawling up his throat. He lowers his head, eyes suddenly growing unbearably wet. He wishes for Poe not to see him like this, though the tears come anyway. Troy. _Fucking Hector._

“Was it not you who said no one could kill the likes of me?” Poe asks, lifting Finn’s chin with a finger. “Hm?”

“It’s _Hector_ ,” Finn spits his name out like it’s poison. “And you _just_ came back-- how many wars can there be? I am fearful I will forget what your face looks like, you are gone for so long.”

“Come now, do not be like that,” Poe peppers his cheek with kisses, catching the salty remnants of Finn’s eyes on his lips. “And when I come back, we can have our life together. I will live here with you.”

“Until they call for you again. They always do,” Finn’s voice grows cold. He frowns. “They will need you and you will go. War does not stop just because we wish it to.”

“I know…” Poe says. There’s a lull, with only Finn’s sniffles to break the silence. “...do you want children?”

“Poe Dameron,” Finn turns his head away.

“I am serious,” Poe smiles. “Do you want children?”

Finn doesn’t say anything. He bites his lip and stares off at a patch of dirt, before relinquishing a nod. Tear still glossing his eyes. Poe presses closer to him, hand now on his arm and tugging on it gently. “Do you want them with _me?_ ”

Finn nods.

He reaches up with his free hand to wipe at Finn’s cheek, thumb catching a tear before it can dare to fall. “How many do you want?”

 _Hector will kill you,_ Finn wants to say. “... two.”

“And you will have them,” Poe says. “I promise. Two beautiful children. And it will just be the four of us. You can teach them all about the forest and how to care for it, and those _cowards_ of deer.”

Finn breaks, a smile pulling on the corner of his lips. He chuckles. To this, Poe brings him closer into his embrace and noses into his cheek. Finn almost wants to tear himself away. To rip Poe off of him, like removing a thorn from a wound. Quick. Painless. Though, it would leave a scar, all the same.

“Do you promise?” Finn asks.

Poe kisses his cheek again. “As long as there is breath in my lungs.”

 _And when there is none?_ Finn wants to say.

But, he doesn’t.

He simply leans into Poe, head falling against his shoulder as they sit. Wet face staining the cloth of his chiton. Though, Poe doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he pulls Finn closer until he’s all but adhered to him. Finn wraps his hands around his side, and Poe does his best to memorize the indentations they leave.

 


End file.
